


(Oh I Believe in) Yesterday

by taxingtaurus



Series: Family is Everything [2]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Family Relationships - Freeform, Gen, childhood AU, pure fluff, this is the freaking fluffiest thing I have ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-06-05 05:28:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6691480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taxingtaurus/pseuds/taxingtaurus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She imagines being a toddler, jogging to keep up with Lance on their way to a five-year-old Sara’s dance recital. Dark brown ringlets flying behind her while she quickly moves to her seat between Lance and Laurel, trying her hardest to catch a glimpse of her sister behind a velvet curtain. She imagines a little Sara waving to their family between ballet turns. She longs for it so badly it hurts.</p>
<p>Or, a oneshot AU of my AU, where four-year-old Felicity attends her sister’s ballet recital.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Oh I Believe in) Yesterday

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! In the last chapter of my “Thicker than Water” AU, I wrote a paragraph of Felicity reimagining her life as a Lance from a young age, and the idea just wouldn’t leave me alone. So here’s a oneshot AU of an AU that literally no one asked for. 
> 
> Special thanks to my best friend (lookingtowardstomorrow) for being my beta and listening to my ideas, even though she’s not in the fandom. 
> 
> Hope you like it!
> 
> Title taken from the Beatles' “Yesterday”.

It’s one of those days, where the warm, muggy air sits like shower steam against Felicity’s skin; where the sun shines so brightly that the world around her seems just a little magical; the colors a little brighter. The breeze whispers gently through the trees, but it’s not near cool enough to provide any relief against the rays of sunshine falling on her brown ringlets as she runs to catch up with her sister.

She feels her shoes stick slightly to the heated pavement as she sprints as quickly as she can, but her little legs are only half as long as Laurel’s, and it really isn’t fair, since she’s seven and can run so much faster than she can.

She huffs a sigh that’s equal parts exhaustion and annoyance as Laurel jogs ahead of her, almost close enough to touch, but the seven-year-old dances just out of Felicity’s reach. She laughs over her shoulder, dark blonde curls flying wildly behind her when she sees her baby sister’s growing concern.

Felicity starts to feel streaks of heat play across her cheekbones at Laurel’s laughter. Her eyes start to water, because it’s hot and she’s tired and she really wants to see Sara and walk with Laurel and her yellow dress is really itchy when she moves, and suddenly she’s too upset to run anymore. Felicity stops dead in her tracks, folding her arms tightly across her chest as the tears start to slip down her freckled cheeks. She glares at Laurel, her little face pinched in anger.

Her father is still on the phone with the precinct, barking orders into his cell phone as he shifts the bouquet of blue and purple daisies in his hand. He doesn’t notice that his youngest daughter has stopped moving until Laurel calls a “Daddy, wait!” a few paces behind him.

Lance pauses, cutting off in the middle of his sentence and turns to see his four-year-old glowering at his oldest as tears cascade down her face. He sighs deeply before his eyes shutter closed.

“Look, uh, I’ll have to call you back tomorrow. It’s my daughter’s dance recital today, figure it out yourself,” he says briskly, ending the call and turning his full attention to Felicity.

“Hey, baby, what’s wrong?”

Felicity sniffles, shifting her gaze from Laurel to her father.

“Laurel is running too fast and I want to walk with her,” she puffs out miserably.

Before Lance even has a chance to ask Laurel why she’s running away from her sister and why she thinks it’s so funny, Laurel’s brows scrunch together in concern and she moves toward Felicity.

“I’m sorry Lis, I thought we were just playing a game. Do you want to walk with me now?” she asks hesitantly, reaching out a hand that Felicity accepts gratefully with a heavy nod. Her tears stop almost instantly, her face lighting up at the prospect of being with the sister she idolizes so much.

Lance chuckles softly to himself, knowing that if it had been Sara teasing Felicity, Laurel would have stepped in to protect her youngest sister. Even at seven years old, Laurel is fiercely protective of her family, constantly telling her teacher that she’s going to be a cop just like her daddy. The thought makes Lance’s heart warm in his chest.

“’Kay, girls. Let’s get a move on. Sara’s waiting for us.”

*****

The rest of the walk to the theatre passes relatively incident free, but it takes ten minutes longer than Lance had anticipated. Laurel had demanded that they slow down to accommodate an exhausted Felicity, and, after Lance had volunteered to carry his four-year-old, Felicity had adamantly refused. Her lips had pinched together tightly, and she told him (in what he was beginning to realize was her “big girl voice”) that she wanted to walk just like everyone else. He had nervously glanced at his watch every few minutes, but watching two of his girls walk and talk together was too precious to ignore for long.

When the little family (sans Sara, who agitatedly waits with her class backstage for the recital to just _start already_ ) finally makes it to the end of the ticket line, Felicity is incredibly bored. The line is long, the sun is turning her fair skin pink, and Laurel says she’s too old to play games with her (which seems silly because Laurel played princesses with her just this morning). Her oldest sister says they’re supposed to be waiting patiently for Daddy to buy the tickets to see Sara, and tells her that “patiently” means “to not get mad” when Felicity looks confused.

She sighs deeply, a near-perfect image of her father, and tries to find _something_ to do while they wait. She notices a patch of yellow tulips shining brightly from a flowerbed to her right, and can’t help the squeal of excitement that escapes her. She reaches out a hand blindly, her arm connecting sharply with Laurel’s shoulder.

“Ow, Lis!”

“Laurel! Do you see those flowers over there?” she asks, choosing to ignore the fact that she hit her sister. It was an accident, anyway.

Laurel turns her attention to the splash of color near the building and nods in acknowledgement.

“Do you think fairies live in them?” she asks, desperately hoping that the answer is yes.

Sara told her about fairies last week, and she _really_ wants to meet one soon.

Laurel smiles, her gaze flickering from the flowers and back to Felicity’s little face.

“Yes,” she responds smartly. “But they’re not there right now. They’re gonna go see Sara dance, just like us.”

Felicity’s face turns solemn and she nods seriously, accepting Laurel’s answer without an inkling of doubt. Sara is a _very_ good dancer. And if Felicity likes watching her, the fairies must too.

“Do you think they’re gonna sit with us?” she asks hopefully.

“I think the fairies probably wanna stay on the stage so they can see better. They don’t have help like you do,” Laurel giggles, poking a finger against the nose of Felicity’s pink plastic glasses.

Felicity laughs, turning her face away from Laurel before she refocuses her attention to her father.

Lance is watching his girls carefully, amusement and pride shining clearly in his eyes. He has one hand shoved in his pocket, the other holding the bouquet against his chest, when he notices Felicity staring up at him.

“Daddy, can we get ice cream after the recital? I think Sara would really like some.”

Lance chuckles. “Oh _Sara_ would like that, huh?” he asks, winking at her.

“Yep,” she responds easily, popping the p.

“Well, then, I guess we’d better make plans to grab some.”

When Laurel and Felicity brighten dramatically, nearly bouncing with excitement, he know his work here is done.

*****

When the tickets are purchased and awkward small talk with Laurel’s classmate’s mother has passed, Lance holds their tickets to the Usher, who gestures up the flight of stairs behind him.

Lance sighs. Stairs, with two young girls, are never a fun experience.

Laurel tends to run as fast as she can up the stairs of their home, skinned knees and busted lips more than common occurrences in their household. And since his little Flick turned three last year, she’s had a fierce independent streak that means she’s going up the stairs by herself, no matter how long it takes.

It’s almost agonizing, hearing Laurel tell them to “hurry up, or we’ll miss Sara!” from the top of the stairs while he waits with Felicity. For each step, she pushes her little hand higher up on the railing and pulls, using her entire body to propel her up a single step. Her bright yellow dress swirls around her with every movement.

One step…

Two…

Three…

“Flick, baby, is it okay if I carry you?” he chances, already knowing what the answer will be.

As expected, Felicity doesn’t spare him a single glance.

“No, Daddy. I can do it myself.”

A small smile passes across Lance’s lips, before he has an idea.

“You know,” he says conspiratorially, “I’ll bet the fairies are flying in to see Sara now…you might be able to see one or two if you let me carry you to our seats…”

Felicity’s response is automatic. She turns large blue eyes to his face, excitedly reaching her arms above her head to signal that she’s ready to be picked up now.

“You’ll have to hold Sara’s flowers for me, okay?”

Felicity nods solemnly like he’s given her the most important task in the world, gently cradling the flowers against her chest with a carefulness that shouldn’t belong to a four-year-old. He scoops her up easily, holding her tightly against his hip as he grips the railing and ascends the stairs.

“Any fairies yet, baby?” he asks quietly, turning to the little girl in his arms.

She shakes her head no, but her face is all determination. “Not yet, but they’re here somewhere.”

*****

When the family finally makes it to their assigned seating, Lance doesn’t even need to ask where the girls want to sit. It’s just common knowledge that Felicity sits in the middle, between the people she loves most. So Lance has Laurel scoot in first, then Felicity, and then he sets himself in a theatre seat that tries to fold back even with his adult body sitting in it. He can only imagine what it’s like for…oh.

When he turns to look at his two girls, he can’t possibly hold back the bark of laughter that shoves its way up his throat.

Laurel has carefully managed to balance herself on the edge of her seat, using leverage, physics, and her slight weight to keep the chair from closing in on itself, but she’s gripping the edge of the armrest tightly; as if her grip on the cool plastic is the only thing saving her from being eaten by the fuzzy upholstery.

Felicity, however, has obviously not mastered Laurel’s control. She whimpers when the chair wastes no time swallowing her whole, her little body crumpled in half, her little legs peaking out from the folded chair as her arms flail wildly in an attempt to right herself.

“Daddy, help!”

Lance quickly swipes at the moisture forming in the corner of his eye and moves to pull Flick from her precarious position, settling her gently on his lap. He makes quick work of fixing the dress that had snared her while she tried to make her escape. She lets out a hard puff of air and uses the back of her hand to wipe hair from her face as she adjusts herself.

“I want to sit with you too!” Laurel calls, very cautiously slipping down from her position on the edge of her seat and pulling herself into his lap easily.

Lance has to admit, the realization that he would have to attend a dance recital and take care of three girls on his own had been a daunting one. But now, with Felicity curled up against his right side and Laurel leaning against his left shoulder, fatherhood isn’t so scary.

The lights flicker once, twice, a third time before they dim completely. The show is about to start.

*****

The curtain pulls back slowly, the velvet whispering softly before it’s drowned out by the classical music blaring from the speakers behind them. When the curtain lifts completely, Lance isn’t sure where he’s supposed to look.

The entire stage is a furious swirl of color; bright woodland sets clashing harshly with the Pepto-Bismol pink of the dancers’ costumes, the stage lights a harsh mixture of blues and yellows and purples that don’t match anything on the stage. And God, there are _so_ many little girls in tutus.

Lance has never been particularly fond of any children but his own, but that’s probably because a hefty chunk of his work day consists of overseeing community service. Mostly teenagers with bad attitudes. Just yesterday, some creep who calls himself Count Vertigo showed up at the precinct and spit profanities at his assigned officer before having to be physically removed from the premises. If his girls turn out anything like that…

But before he can even begin entertaining his worst fear, there’s Sara. One of the only children actually doing the choreographed moves. But she’s waving frantically with one arm, desperately trying to make out her family from under the blinding stage lights. She smiles wildly even though her eyes are narrowed against the brightness.

Constantly the center of attention, that’s his Sara. And he loves her for it.

Laurel and Felicity seem to be equally as overjoyed at the sight of their sister, because Felicity waves back as hard as she possibly can and Laurel turns to ask if they saw Sara wave, both girls laughing as they watch Sara twirl around with the all the grace of a five-year-old at her first dance recital.

*****

After the recital is over, the little family exit their seats quickly and make their way down the dreaded stairs and the narrow aisle, toward the stage to pick up the middle Lance child.

Felicity only waits a few moments before begging to be allowed to carry the flowers and give them to Sara. And, when she turns wide, hopeful eyes on her father, there’s no way he’s going to say no. He breathes out a gentle reminder to be careful, and before he knows it, both girls are sprinting down the aisle towards their sister. Laurel bounds gracefully and quickly through the throngs of people still exiting their seats, but Felicity is lagging behind. The flowers are nearly as big as she is and she sneezes twice when the petals tickle her nose.

Sara is animatedly talking about the recital to one of her friends – Iris something, Lance thinks – as they approach, but when Sara catches Laurel running out of the corner of her eye, her entire demeanor changes. Her giant blue eyes light up and she runs toward them, trying to crush her now-kneeling dad in a bear hug as she places a sloppy kiss to his cheek.

“Did you see me? Did you see me?” she asks excitedly, nearly bouncing as she turns her attention to Laurel and Felicity.

“Yeah, you did really good, Sara,” Laurel says proudly at the same time Felicity says, “Uh huh! You waved at us!”

Lance chuckles lightly and watches as Felicity and Laurel attempt to maneuver the bouquet from Felicity’s little hands and into Sara’s. The little blonde smiles widely, moving to press her nose against the soft petals before she breathes in deeply.

“These are so pretty! Thank you,” Sara says as she places sloppy kisses to Felicity’s and Laurel’s cheeks. Laurel rubs hers off immediately, but Felicity presses forward, throwing her arms around Sara’s neck.

Lance shakes his head fondly, before he regards his girls with a serious expression.

“You know,” he says shiftily, eyes flickering between the three Lance sisters. “I think that _maybe_ …” he pauses, “But I don’t know if you kids will want to… Maybe, it’s time for ice cream.”

And yep, their answering shrieks of pure, unadulterated joy make everything worth it.

*****

Felicity didn’t get to see any fairies today, but that’s okay. She got to walk with Laurel and see Sara and hold pretty flowers and get ice cream. And that’s almost as good as seeing a fairy.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> Side note: I modeled young Laurel and Felicity after my little cousins, who were obsessed with fairies until they were nine. And I definitely had to use the “the fairies would like it if you [fill in the random toddler torture here]” line on more than one occasion. When it stopped working, my life got significantly harder.
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are seriously appreciated!


End file.
